Page 71 of Obsessing Over His Favorite
She loved him so much. How could she forget something so basic?
He swallowed hard, the knot in his throat tightening.
She had been good to him—never careless, never forgetful. She had never even whispered the word ‘breakup’ until—
A chilling realization swept through him like ice water down his spine, freezing him mid-breath.
That car accident?
Chapter 13 A Death Sentence
He took a slow step forward, raising a hand with uncharacteristic gentleness. His fingers brushed the side of her face, barely touching. His voice dropped, soft but heavy with suspicion.
“Emily… have you forgotten some things?”
Her face turned pale within a moment.
“Did you lose your memory?” he asked.
The question hit her like a jolt. She flinched, instinctively stepping back, her eyes wide.
“What are you talking about?!” she said quickly. “I don’t know what you mean.” Her heart thundered in her chest.
Her grip tightened around the phone. Her eyes flicked to his face, then away, pulse fluttering at her throat. She didn’t want to answer. But the way he was watching her—like he already knew something was off—sent warning signals through her.
“You’ve been different ever since that accident,” he said, voice low and tense. “You avoid me. You say you want to break up. You won’t even look at me.” His gaze hardened. “And now you sayyou forgot my number? That’s impossible.” He took another step forward. “Tell me the truth—did you lose your memory?”
“I told you—I didn’t forget anything!” Her voice cracked slightly as she snapped, agitated. “I just don’t want your number on my phone because we broke up. I told you, Lucas—we are over! So why don’t you leave me alone?”
Instead of backing away, he moved in.
Without warning, his arms wrapped around her waist and lifted her effortlessly, her breath catching as he set her gently down on the edge of the table.
Her heels barely touched the surface when he stepped between her legs, closing the space between them. His hand slid up the back of her neck, his palm warm, his grip possessive.
His face was inches from hers, his voice a whisper that burned.
“Tell me the truth.”
Her hands pressed weakly against his chest, but he didn’t move.
“Can you stop this?” she gritted impatiently. “Just leave me alone already!”
“Since you're telling me you remember everything,” Lucas said, voice low and razor-sharp, “then tell me—what’s my favorite food?”
Emily stiffened. Her spine straightened. Her fingers gripped the edge of the table behind her. She didn’t answer right away. She could feel the heat of his stare crawling over her face.
“I don’t know,” she said, trying to sound casual. “I never paid attention to that. I’m not some creep watching your plate. Why are you even asking me this?”
Lucas tilted his head, his jaw tight. He stepped in even closer, invading her space. His stare sharpened, scanning her face like he was reading her skin instead of her words.
“Alright then. What’s my favorite color?” he asked, his tone calm but seething. “You know that. You’ve bought me more clothes than I’ve ever bought for myself.”
Emily swallowed hard. Her knees bumped the edge of the table. She was running out of space to back away. Her voice came out hesitant, uncertain. “Black...?”
The cold flash in Lucas’s eyes was instant. He didn’t even blink. He just stared at her
“My favorite color is blue.”
